Charm Department
by paganpunk2
Summary: Bruce's new secretary learns that Wayne Enterprises' research and development sector is called the Charm Department for one reason, and one reason only - Dick Grayson. Three-shot, 1950s setting, established Dick/Babs, plenty of father/son fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all, this is going to be another little three-shot. I've had this idea pinging around in my head for a little while now, and wanted to get it off the list while 'Of Friends and Foes' is wrapping up. To give you a little background on this, I thought it would be fun to go against DC's usual policy and pretend like linear time is a thing (what a concept!). So, since Dick first appeared as a child in 1940, this story is set in the mid-1950s, putting him at around 25 years old. It's a Dick/Babs established storyverse, also, and Dick is employed at Wayne Enterprises. For you lovers of canon, in my head this takes place sometime between the destruction of Bludhaven and Bruce's "death."**

**As mentioned, it will be a three-shot. The next chapter will feature plenty of our favorite bird, and chapter three will be a lot of father/son banter and light fluff. I should have the next chapter up by the end of this coming weekend, and possibly the completion as well. Happy reading!**

Emily Darnell's first day as an executive secretary at Wayne Enterprises was less than two hours old, and she was already exhausted. It was far from her first time in an office, but none of her experience could possibly have prepared her for this. _How am I ever going to learn all of this stuff_? she fretted as the woman she was replacing kept droning on through specifics.

Dora, she'd decided after less than five minutes in her presence, was a machine. The older woman had answered phone calls for Bruce Wayne since Emily was of an age to still be in diapers, and had her routine down so pat that her desk was more assembly line than work space. Reports came in, signatures went out, appointments were kept and heads of state were disappointed to learn that no, she was sorry but Mr. Wayne had a prior engagement on Saturday evening. It all flew by so quickly that by nine thirty Emily couldn't even remember where she'd been told the bathroom was. _I won't last a week,_ she moaned silently.

"Emily? Are you listening to me?"

"Of course!" she snapped to attention. "The yellow files are in development, blue is for marketing, green is for finished projects, purple is for accounting, beige goes to personnel and red is for anything that's been approved by Mr. Wayne," she regurgitated everything that her ears had apparently been processing without her knowledge. "Is…is that right?"

"You got blue and green mixed up," Dora's eyes narrowed for a moment before she sighed and gave her a pitying look. "Listen, I know this isn't an easy system to learn. I remember, trust me. We've had three other girls in here already trying to take over for me, and not one of them lasted. But you listen close; that man in there," she waved her hand towards the huge oak double doors that let into the CEO's sumptuous corner office, "is obsessed with his files. You send a quarterly earnings report in there in a yellow file and you'll get a look you won't ever forget. It works for him – lack of organization doesn't build companies like this one – but it's a real bear for the rest of us."

"…I'm sure I'll pick it up," she tried to smile. _I'm not sure I can do this, even for forty thousand a year…_

"I'm sure you will. You don't have much of a choice, really; I'm done in a week's time whether you're ready or not." Standing, the older woman straightened her skirt primly. "I'm running to the washroom. You hold down the fort for five minutes, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded with absolutely no confidence. As soon as Dora had disappeared around the corner, she slumped forward, one hand rising to her forehead. _Purple, green, red…I'm so screwed. _

"Ahem," a throat was cleared, somewhat impatiently, from directly in front of her.

"Mr….Mr. Wayne!" she exclaimed, staring up at him. "I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't hear you come out of your office. What…what can I-"

"You're new," he said flatly.

"Y-yes, sir."

"…Dora's replacement?"

She swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"What's your name?"

"Emily, sir. Emily Darnell."

"Well, Emily Darnell," he repeated brusquely, "this needs to go down to the Charm Department." As he spoke he handed her a yellow file. "…Do you know where that is?"

Something about his voice was _too_ silky, almost dangerous. "The…the _charm_ department, Mr. Wayne?" Dora had given her a tour of the most important places this morning, sweeping through the halls and pointing at doors as they passed them, but Emily was certain she would have remembered that one had she heard it. "I'm afraid I-"

"Research and Development,"he explained, not unkindly.

"Oh," she acknowledged. That, at least, she thought she could figure out how to find. "Of course. I'm sorry, sir, I-"

"Mr. Wayne!" They both turned to see Dora hustling back. "She's new, Mr. Wayne, my apologies, don't mind her."

"It's fine, Dora," he raised one hand placatingly. "I just needed a file delivered. Emily's assured me she can make that happen."

All three were silent for a moment. "Well, girl?!" Dora barked suddenly, crossing her arms. "Are you going to do it, or not?"

Her eyes grew hot. _No,_ she wanted to shout. _No, I'm not, because no one has any chance of learning all of this so quickly without making mistakes. No wonder you've gone through three girls already; between the two of you you probably turned their hair white with terror._ She needed the job badly, though; forty thousand a year was enough for her to support a life in the city and still send enough home to keep her widowed mother and her brother, irreparably wounded in the Battle of the Bulge, relatively comfortable. She was the only one who was willing to support them; walking away from Dora and Mr. Wayne right now would be as good as throwing them to the wolves. "Of course," she managed. "I just didn't want to leave the desk unattended, that's all." _You old biddy,_ she didn't add as she rose and passed the other woman, turning right when she reached the hallway. No screeching proclamations of ineptitude followed her, so she had to assume she'd gone the right direction.

"…She just turned the wrong way," Bruce commented when he knew the girl was out of earshot.

"She'll figure it out," his secretary replied. "She's a keeper, that one is, Mr. Wayne. I've got a good feeling about her. She lacks some confidence, but that could just be your usual effect on people." She paused. "Where did you send her, anyway?"

"Charm Department."

Her eyebrows shot up. "…With all due respect, sir, that was a risky move. You know that boy of yours is likely to have her little heart going pitty-pat in all of ten seconds. She's not wearing a ring, either."

"If she's really a keeper, Dora, she'll handle it. Besides, I didn't make this company what it is without a few risky moves. And while Emily seems to be a very nice young lady, you and I both know that Grace Kelly herself could proposition Dick and it wouldn't matter. Not so long as Barbara keeps wearing that ridiculously huge rock on her finger."

"You might dislike that gorgeous diamond, Mr. Wayne, but you'll never fool me into thinking you dislike the girl wearing it," Dora shook her head. "Their vows are six months out still and she's already as good as your daughter."

_Dora, you have no idea, _he smiled internally, thinking about the society page headline that had accompanied the engagement announcement. _The 'Golden Couple of Gotham,' indeed. _He could have gone on with the flowery descriptions – after all, he kept a secret copy of the article in his office and all but had it memorized – but there was work to be done. "Well, they grew up together," he said vaguely. "I had a head start on getting to know her." He tapped her desk lightly. "Let him know I expect him in my office for lunch, would you? If he tries to give you an excuse, tell him I already ordered from that little Chinese place he likes off of 8th Avenue."

"Certainly, Mr. Wayne," she shook her head as he returned to his office. _That boy is the best thing that ever happened to him,_ she mused, adjusting her glasses and preparing to assault the day's incoming mail. _I'm just glad he finally seems to recognize that._


	2. Chapter 2

Dick was returning from a meeting with Lucius when he came across a woman who looked to be on the verge of tears. "Miss?" he ventured, approaching her. "Are you all right?"

Emily gave him a weak smile and a nod, then turned her watery eyes back to the department listings on the wall. A second later her face jerked back around to the man who'd come to a halt a foot or so away. _Hel-lo,_ her heart leapt. "I…I'm all right, really," she replied as stably as she could manage. _And so are you,_ she took him in with a brief glance. Designer suit, expensive shoes, _gorgeous_ _smile_, she gasped to herself. _Must work in marketing, or something. Something important. _

"Are you new around here?"

"Oh, I…yes. It's my first day, actually," she confessed, suddenly feeling frumpy. She'd put on the best thing she owned this morning, but beside him she felt as if she were wearing a burlap sack. _I would swear I've seen him somewhere before,_ she peered at him.

"Something?" he asked good-naturedly.

"No," she shook her head, realizing that she'd been staring. "I'm sorry, I…you looked familiar, but I can't place you."

"No problem," he laughed. "I do that all the time." He didn't, truly – Bruce had trained him long ago to memorize names and faces instantly – but she was edgy as hell, and a little commiseration never hurt when it came to calming people down. _She doesn't recognize me,_ he crowed. _That's a nice change of pace._ Fifteen years of life as the ward of one of the richest men in the country had made him used to media coverage, but the last couple of years it seemed the buzzing never let up. _You come home from Bludhaven, and apparently that makes you something special,_ he thought bemusedly. _Probably because no one in their right mind would come __back__ to Gotham._ "Can I help you find something? Or someone?"

"I'm supposed to deliver this file to Research and Development," she explained. "I've already taken all day doing it." She giggled nervously. "I'm so lost."

"Hey, it's your first day. This place can be confusing. I'm on my way down there now, actually, so I'd be happy to show you where it is."

"Oh, thank you," she gushed. _What the hell is wrong with me? I mean, yes, he's got Hollywood looks, but good lord, Emily, since when do you fall head over heels? Pull yourself together!_ "I'm Emily Darnell, by the way," she offered her hand. _Well, that was forward, you dunce._ A second later he took it, though, and her fears fled. He shook well, she couldn't help but notice, firm enough to be serious but not crushing her hand the way the few other men she'd shaken with had. _No ring,_ she noted, glancing at his left hand. _Really, Emily?! _she berated herself again immediately afterwards. _This isn't a movie! Snap out of it!_

"Nice to meet you, Miss Darnell. I'm Dick," he grinned, knowing that the papers never used his nickname. "Just Dick. I don't stand on ceremony." _Let's see how long this lasts,_ he decided, falling into step beside her. _It'll be nice to have a conversation with someone who doesn't realize I'm the boss' kid. _"So, where are you working?"

"I'm Mr. Wayne's new executive secretary. Well, I'm training to be, at least. And please," she blushed slightly, "call me Emily."

It took all of his training to not let his surprise show. _Oh, man, Bruce's new secretary? This is hilarious. All of the other ones only applied because they were obsessed with everything tied to him, Dora said, and here's this new one who doesn't even realize…wow. I like her already._ "Hey, that's a great job. You'll like it up there, he's a pushover for his secretaries. Not like that," he added quickly, seeing her blanch. "I just meant that once you get past the gruff exterior he's a, uh, really generous person." He'd wanted to say 'teddy bear,' but that would have made his connection with the top floor far too obvious.

"…Oh?" she queried, giving him a strange look. "You must have worked here for a while, then?"

"Yeah," he answered easily. "You could say that." Bruce had been bringing him in at least once a week since he was nine, after all; he supposed being adored by the desk girls and patted on the back by any and every man looking to curry the CEO's favor counted as work. "I'm down in R&D these days." He paused as they waited for the elevator. "How long have you been in Gotham?"

"About five years. I had a job with Consolidated Steel until recently…" she trailed off. _Oh, why did I mention that? After everything that happened with poor Mr. McAvoy…just because Mr. Wayne happened to be his friend and stood up for him doesn't mean that everyone who works for him feels the same. Foolish, Em, foolish!_

"Consolidated, huh? That was a shame," he shook his head. "I went to school with Jimmy McAvoy's son. You know, Bobby? He's working on a law degree at Yale. Well, he was," he lamented. _Damned McCarthy and his cronies. McAvoy was as American as Superman, and they destroyed him. Bastards._ "Now I guess he's just trying to keep himself out of jail. Were you…close to the top?"

"I…" She swallowed hard, remembering the dank little room she'd been interrogated in. Cruel men, cold men, launching questions that made no sense. "Yes," she answered simply.

"…I'm sorry to hear that, Emily." She looked up at the sincerity in his voice. His eyes were serious, understanding, and her pain lessened as she realized that he wasn't judging her. "I hope they weren't too nasty to you."

"Well, I'm here now," she said bravely. _I tried so hard, but I'm sure something I said must have hurt Mr. McAvoy's case…they always seem to be able to twist whatever you say to suit their purposes, but you don't dare __not__ speak…_

"In a much better place," he nodded as their descent ended and the doors slid open. "Welcome to Research and Development," he changed the subject. "Or, as I like to call it, home away from home. Does that go to someone in particular? I'll take you to their office."

"…Mr. Wayne didn't say," she realized, her eyes widening as her attention was pulled back to her job. "And I didn't think to ask. He just said to take it to the…the Charm Department. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean."

"Just part of his jargon," Dick waved away. "I know what he meant. 'Charm Department' is code for Grayson." _Should I tell her now? I don't want to freak her out, especially if she's still coming down off of issues with the HUAC. Still, she's already going to be upset, probably…hell. Now I wish I hadn't played around to begin with._

"Grayson…" For all that Emily didn't pay much attention to high society, she'd been in Gotham long enough to recognize that name when she heard it. "Mr. Wayne's son? He works down here?"

"Sure does."

"I would have thought the son of a multi-millionaire would be up on the management levels," she said frankly.

"Well, he _does_ manage R&D," Dick shrugged.

"Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense. Would you…would you mind pointing me towards his office?"

"Here, it's right up here on the left." The second door down the hall was open, the room empty. "You can just leave it on the desk."

"All right," she agreed. As she set the file down, she caught sight of the lone photograph on the tabletop. "Is that his fiancee?" she asked.

"Yeah," he smirked, watching her stare at the picture of Babs. "He's quite the lucky son of a bee, isn't he? Excuse my language."

"She's even prettier than I thought..."

"I don't know what she sees in him," he sighed honestly. "Don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy, but…she's out of this world."

"Have you met her?"

"She comes down occasionally to get him out of the office for lunch. She's a real sweetheart. Tough, though." He smiled. "Kind of like you, actually."

Had anyone else said such a thing while standing between her and the only exit, Emily would have been frightened. But this man had made her feel at ease so quickly, even after she brought up Consolidated Steel, that she knew there was no threat in the words. He was just being kind. "That's very nice of you to say, Dick," she thanked him quietly. "I should get back upstairs. I think I can find it myself, seeing as how all I have to do is get in the elevator and push the top button."

"Convenient, isn't it?"

"Yes," she laughed. "Thanks so much for your help. I…you're a very easy man to talk to, do you know that?" _You've made me feel so much better about this place…_

"Nah. I just like to help people."

"Well…thank you, anyway."

"Sure. Anytime." He walked out to the hallway with her – it would have been too suspicious for him to stay in what was ostensibly someone else's office – and released a low sigh of relief when she was safely at the elevator doors. _Crisis averted. She'll figure it out eventually, but hopefully enough time will have passed for her to not feel like I was trying to catch her at something. Poor girl, I wish I'd known she was linked to McAvoy…I would never have pulled such a stupid stunt if I'd known she was just checked out by those headhunters..._

"Hey, Mr. Grayson? I need you to sign this."

His train of thought was broken as a male voice came up behind him. _Conroy,_ he closed his eyes. _How many times to I have to tell you to just call me Dick? _At the elevator, he saw Emily turn around, searching. Her gaze flew past him, no doubt to the man who was hailing him and absolutely _ruining_ his cover, then returned to his face. Understanding, then a trace of fear, dawned in her eyes. _Oh, no, Emily, wait, let me explain_… He started towards her, holding his hands up in an attempt to show that he meant no harm, but the doors opened before he could take more than a single step. _Wait!_ he wanted to call out as she backed into the compartment, her posture rigid. The doors shut, and she was gone. _Oh, total hell…_

__**Author's Note: It's hard to visit the early-to-mid 1950s without bringing McCarthy into things...maybe because it just plains boggles the mind. For those who were curious, the HUAC was the House Un-American Activities Committee. If you're unfamiliar with their shall we say interesting tactics, I advise googling them. **

**Emily's upset now, of course, but Dick's code name isn't 'Charm Department' for nothing...**


	3. Chapter 3

Dick stepped out onto the top floor shortly before noon, still fretting. _I hope she's here,_ he thought. _I really need to explain things to her. The last thing I want is for her to think she's being watched…_

The only person at the desk, though, was Dora. "Mr. Grayson," she gave a rare genuine smile as she greeted him.

He shook his head at her teasing. "Please, Dora, you've known me since I was nine. The only person in this building better qualified to call me by my given name is on the other side of those doors," he gestured towards the CEO's office.

"There is such a thing as decorum, you know."

"You sound like Alfred."

"That man keeps you _and_ Mr. Wayne in line, so I'll take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one. You don't do too bad at wrangling us, yourself." He bounced on his toes a couple of times. "Listen, is Emily around?"

"I sent her on lunch a little early. She's been a little shaky ever since she came back from delivering a file to a certain somebody," she glanced at him knowingly. "You've _got_ to stop making every woman you meet fall in love, honey. It's terribly inconvenient for those of us trying to get them to do something other than daydream about you."

_Yeah, I'm thinking her daydream was more of a nightmare,_ he winced slightly. "All I do is try to be nice to them," he shrugged. _Except when I frighten them half to death out of a selfish desire to seem like a normal person. Is five minutes of being incognito really too much to ask for? _

"…Dick?" Bruce stepped out of his office. "I thought I heard you out here."

"Hey. Just talking to Dora while I still have the chance." He gave her a sad look. "I like Emily, but I still think you should stay."

"Not a chance," she shook her head. "All I want from my remaining years is a warm, sandy beach, and unless Mr. Wayne decides to move the company headquarters to Florida, I can't work here and have that, too."

"…What do you think, Bruce?" Dick grinned. "Want to move to Florida? Probably not, you like your doom and gloom," he sighed. "Besides, tan isn't really your color."

"I really think Gotham would fall apart if Wayne Enterprises were to leave," Dora opined.

"Yeah," the younger man admitted. _In more ways than one. _"You're probably right. Guess we're stuck here."

"Guess so," Bruce's eyebrow quirked. "Come in here, we need to talk."

"Uh oh," he commented to the secretary. "I'm in trouble."

"When have you _ever _been in trouble?" she waved him off, reaching for the phone as it trilled sharply. "Mr. Wayne's office…no, I'm sorry, sir, he's in a lunch meeting at the moment…I'll be happy to take a message, of course…"

"…Okay," the millionaire began a moment later as he dropped into his desk chair. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he answered as he sat across from him.

"Dick, don't waste time. We both know something's bothering you. Tell me what it is _before_ the food gets here so we can enjoy our lunch."

"…How do you always know? I can lie to anybody, except you. And Alfred," he tacked on. "I've never mastered that one, either."

"No one has," Bruce said shortly. "As for the other, you've never been capable of hiding it from me when you're feeling guilty about something."

Sighing again, he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, not speaking.

"…It's not a problem with Barbara, is it?"

"No," he negated immediately. "That's…that's all fine. I just…did you know Emily worked for Consolidated Steel before she came here?"

"Yes. Bobby McAvoy knew I was looking for a replacement for Dora and asked me to give his father's secretary a shot. He was very complimentary. I didn't tell her that, of course; the last thing she needs on top of being trained by the dragon out front is to associate the things that happened at her last job with this one."

"Gee, that makes me feel so much better," he muttered sarcastically.

"…Huh?"

"I didn't know she'd been involved with the investigation into McAvoy, Bruce." He straightened, then leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, rubbing his temples as he explained what had happened a couple hours before. "It was just…nice, you know, to have someone treat me like a regular guy instead of…well…the boss' kid, millionaire heir apparent, et cetera. But I think I might have scared the daylights out of her. I thought it might be better to let her calm down before I tried to explain. That's why I came up a little before noon; I figured I'd talk to her before she went to lunch. Dora sent her early, though, because she seemed out of it. Now I just hope she actually comes _back._"

"Hmm. I suppose I can understand your logic in waiting." He tapped his fingers on the desk a few times. "But like you said, Dick, you didn't know. And frankly, I can't fault you for wanting to be unknown with a new acquaintance, even for just a few minutes. I'm a little surprised that she didn't recognize you, though; you've been in the paper a lot lately. Society weddings tend to do that," he smiled softly.

"Yeah…it's annoying as hell."

"If you think this is bad, wait until you have a kid."

"…I seem to remember you nearly punching a photographer at one point, what, like two months after I came to the Manor?"

"I didn't think it was appropriate for him to lurk outside the gates to your school," Bruce said darkly. "He's lucky I _didn't_ punch him. It was one thing for them to chase me, but to go after a kid the way they did you…that was wrong."

"Plenty of others wanting a lot worse things than pictures came after me," he reminded him, dropping his voice.

"And you'll recall that I _did_ punch them. Multiple times. Hard."

"Yes, yes you did. And I appreciated it."

"Any time." They were silent for a moment. "Don't worry about Emily, Dick. You've always had a knack for making shadows disappear. She's upset now, but once you've explained to her she might very well feel better about the entire incident, not just with you, but with McAvoy and McCarthy's trolls, too."

"…I hope so."

They moved on to other topics, and ten minutes passed before there was a knock at the door. "Come in, Dora," Bruce called.

"God, I hope that's the food," Dick turned expectantly. "…Hi, Emily."

"Oh," she paused, eyes widening and her hand tightened on the Chinese delivery. "I'm sorry, I…Dora told me to bring this in, and I…ah…"

"I'll take it," the younger man said quickly, rising and moving to do so. "Listen, Bruce, um…could we have a minute?"

"You're kicking me out of my own office?" _Presumptuous little brat,_ he chuckled silently. _But then, the method's always worked on me, so why change it?_

"Yeah. Sorry. We'll be quick. Emily…?" he stepped back, leaving her room to enter.

Steeling herself, she minced in, her light lunch turning in her stomach. _Relax. Just relax, Em. It's not like he's going to murder you. Not in the executive suite, at least._ Mr. Wayne moved past her, shutting the door behind himself. "Mr. Grayson, I-"

"Dick," he interrupted her.

"…I'm sorry?"

"It's just Dick," he insisted, setting the paper bag containing his and Bruce's meal on the desk. "Listen, Emily, I owe you an apology."

"…What? I don't understand…please…" She was on the verge of tears again. _I just want to go home. Please, just fire me and let me go home._

"Hey, whoa, calm down," he tried to soothe her, seeing her distress. "Look, I didn't know you'd worked for McAvoy. And that's okay," he added quickly. "It really is. I wasn't kidding when I said I went to school with Bobby; he was one of the few people I actually got along with in school. I'm _glad _you worked for them. It's just…I'm not used to people not recognizing me, especially in this building. So meeting someone who did…it was refreshing. It was nice to have a conversation with someone new who wasn't immediately kowtowing. That's why I didn't tell you who I am right from the beginning. I wasn't trying to mislead you, or spy on you, or anything like that. Bruce and I are both so far from those goons you had to deal with that it's kind of a miracle _we_ haven't been investigated. So…no one's out to hurt you here, okay? I made a stupid mistake, and I apologize. I'm sorry if I scared you; my intention was to make you feel welcome, not hunted."

She watched him warily as he spoke, and slowly found herself believing him. _There's something so disarming about his nature,_ she thought. _It's impossible not to trust him, almost. _"I…I'm still a little nervous, Mr. Grayson," she confessed when he had finished and was waiting for her reply with a hopeful expression. "…Dick," she amended. "It's been a rough few months."

"Sure," he agreed, that kind look that had struck her so strongly when she'd first mentioned Consolidated Steel back in his eye. "But like you said downstairs, you're here now. And I know our misunderstanding earlier didn't make you feel very safe here, but trust me when I say that you are. Dora and Bruce can both be a little, ah, _distant_, I guess would be the word, but if they didn't think you were worth their time, you wouldn't have been here long enough to even _get_ a lunch break. And you sure wouldn't have been sent down to deliver a file to me." His shoulders slumped as a tear ran down her cheek. _What did I say __now__? _"What's wrong?"

"I…I thought you were going to fire me. When you asked me to come in. And now…you're just so _nice_, and…and I thought…"

"What? No way." He leaned backwards over the desk and snagged a tissue from the other side. "The last girl?" he confided with a conspiratorial look as he handed it to her. "She lasted a half hour. Dora's got a killer sense for what will work and what won't around here. She goes on and on about only having a week left, but if she didn't think you were up to snuff, she'd have already fired you and started looking for another candidate, no matter what it meant for her plane reservation."

Dabbing at her eyes and hoping that she hadn't completely ruined her makeup, Emily felt a surge of relief. "…Thank you," she shook her head. "After Consolidated…no one wants to touch people who have been questioned by the Committee, and this job…I need it, I really do, and I don't even know why I'm _telling_ you all of this…"

"It's okay. Really. Go on, it's okay."

She calmed slowly, taking deep breaths. "I'm so sorry I broke down like that," she apologized.

"It's my fault, really," he lamented.

"No, I…oh, I don't know. I feel like I don't even need to explain the reasons to you, that you just understand. Is that strange?"

"No. It's flattering." He smiled. "Can you forgive me for being so stupid? You're going to be Bruce's new secretary, so we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Besides that, you're a nice person, and I'm looking forward to getting to know you better. So…friends?"

"…Is that appropriate? Friends?" _I work for you, after all, and you're engaged, and…_

"I don't believe in letting the papers tell me who I should and shouldn't be friends with. There are good people – and bad ones – at every level of society, I've found. It makes me sad to think about all of the great experiences and stories I'd have missed out on if I restrained myself to only liking the people everyone else thought I should. But I understand your hesitation," he went on. "So let me amend that. Can we start over?"

"…Of course," she nodded.

Grinning now, he stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Dick Grayson, head of Research and Development. You must be Emily Darnell, the new executive secretary. Pleasure to meet you."

She shook, enjoying the sound of the title behind her name. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Grayson."

"Please, call me Dick. Really, I insist."

"…Certainly. And I'm…Emily."

"The new executive secretary," he added, giving her a smirk as he released her hand. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No," she agreed, both amused and quieted by the little game they'd just played. "It was very nice. I…I feel much better now, Dick. About everything, really." She blushed. "I definitely understand why they call you the Charm Department."

"Like I said, Bruce's nickname." He leaned against the desk as he spoke, opening the aromatic bag beside him and digging out an eggroll. "He said at a dinner once that they should send me to Moscow and get this whole mess with the Soviets settled once and for all. It would have been a heck of a compliment if the Secretary of State hadn't been sitting there looking like he thought it wasn't a half-bad idea."

She smacked a hand over her mouth as a small snort of laughter escaped her. Looking up in embarrassment – _that's it, Em, that's proper office behavior – _she found him grinning at her as he chewed. _…Maybe this place isn't so bad, after all. I just hope he visits Mr. Wayne's office a __lot__._ Even knowing her still-existent crush was pointless, she liked him. _Who wouldn't, though?_ she wondered as she reached for the door. "…I should leave you to your lunch. I'm sure Dora has a million things for me to do."

"Send the boss-man back in, would you? Tell him his Szechuan is in danger, that always gets him moving."

"I will," she smiled.

_That went __way__ better than I thought it might,_ he sighed in relief when she'd gone. Just as he swallowed the last of his eggroll, Bruce entered.

"…I see the Charm Department of Wayne Enterprises is still turning out quality work," he commented. "And you better not have touched my entrée."

"I didn't," he assured him. "But I _am_ going to steal a bite."

"Typical." They unpacked the bag and ate without speaking for several minutes.

"So…she seems better now?"

"Much. I don't know what you said, but as usual, it got the job done."

"Well, I learned from the best. Your skills just lean more towards knowing the perfect threat rather than the perfect compliment."

"Tactics."

"Yup." His chopsticks snuck across the desk and back. "You _are_ keeping her, right?"

"Dick, if I wasn't planning on keeping her, I would never have sent her down to you."

"That's what I told her, but…just making sure, I guess."

"You're the final test, you know that. I won't hire a secretary you can't get along with. After all," he mused. "She'll be your secretary someday, and probably unexpectedly. She needs to suit us both in order to assure the smoothest possible transition in that case."

"Quit talking like that," he jabbed his utensils at him, face set. _I don't like thinking about it, you know that._

"We both know it's a distinct likelihood."

"Sure. We also know that it could happen the other way around, and that she might _never_ become my secretary."

Bruce flinched. _Don't. Please. _"…Not while we're eating," he said.

"Agreed." Nothing more was said until they had both finished.

"…Dick?"

"Yeah?"

_You're amazing. I'm so proud of you. I love you. _"…Thank you."

"I didn't do anything," he frowned.

"No, I meant…"

"Oh. Yeah. Well." Their eyes met. _You're never going to be able to really say it, are you? I know you try, Bruce. You tried just now. I just wish I knew a way to charm down that last wall… _"Thanks to you, too. Dad." He held the other man's shocked but grateful gaze for a second, then gave him his special smile, rose, and headed for the door. _At least there was something I didn't lie to Emily about earlier,_ he reflected as he passed through the lobby and tipped a wink to the two women behind the desk._ I __am__ one lucky son of a bee._ A grin slipped across his lips as he considered that. _Well…one lucky son of a bat, at least._


End file.
